An avid cinéaste,
time-tripping through
the fourth dimension,
in search of beauty, truth
and timeless escapist
entertainment

Friday, February 12, 2016

There's No Girls Like Showgirls

Showgirls
(1995) is one of the most flamboyantly fabulous failures in film
history, which makes it a must-watch for any self-respecting cinema
voyeur. If you’ve seen it more than once, chances are you’ll want to see
it again and again. It’s so, so ill-conceived and tasteless, you can’t
possibly look away.

Stylistically,
the film is a throwback to the schlock cinema of a bygone era, owing
its look and feel to the colorfully prurient, unreal cinema worlds
created in showbiz-themed films of the late 1960s like Valley of the Dolls (and of course the Russ Meyers “sequel” Beyond the Valley of the Dolls) and Myra Breckinridge.
With its extravagantly over-the-top costumes and production design,
artfully painted kewpie-doll-faced actresses sporting skimpy
attire (when they are lucky enough to be wearing anything at all other
than fairy dust and sequins), nothing whatsoever resembles physical
reality in any way, shape or form. It’s 100% melodramatic soap opera
fantasy, glossed over with a heavy hand.

The fire and magic of Nomi Malone (Elizabeth Berkley)

The plot is pure All About Eve, with a smidgeon of 42nd Street
thrown in for good measure, though I don’t recall if Ruby Keeler ever
pushed Bebe Daniels down the stairs. Beat by beat, you’ll recognize the
well-worn tropes from countless other show business films—the ambitious
young acolyte, the insecure star, the producer who’s really a pimp, the
frustrated director and choreographer, etc.

I
feel like I should hate this film, because it has one of the most
nakedly misogynistic points of view I’ve ever seen in a Hollywood
narrative. The nudity is not what bothers me; the perpetually bouncing
breasts (which inexplicably bring to mind the topless dancing zombies of
Ed Wood’s Orgy of the Dead)
and female objectification are adolescent and gratuitous but not
particularly offensive. It’s the way the characters are drawn and the
way they go about achieving their goals that I take issue
with—practically every woman in this film is an out-and-out, high-riding
bitch and walking paragon of vulgarity. Worse, the only sympathetic
character in the script is mercilessly beaten and raped for no apparent
reason.

Every man's fantasy

Most
chillingly of all, this putrid attitude toward women is revealed in the
so-called jokes of the squat, overweight and unlovely mistress of
ceremonies at the sleazy Cheetah nightclub: “What do you call that
useless piece of skin around a tw*t?” she asks the audience. “A woman!”
When the pouting lips, curvaceous breasts and pert bottoms are stripped
away, is that what men think of the opposite sex when all is said and
done?

The intense vulgarity of Mama Bazoom (Lin Tucci)

This film is demeaning to women, so why do I enjoy it so much? (I think I know.)

I believe I understand exactly why this film has been elevated to cult status by a primarily gay male audience. Showgirls must
not be read literally as the adventures of a group of women in the Las
Vegas entertainment industry. Because the characters are NOT WOMEN. If,
in your mind’s eye, you imaginatively cast every female character as a
drag queen, it all starts to make more sense. Every actress who has the
misfortune to appear in this film is a female impersonator.

Is Nomi Malone a man in drag?

In
various reviews, critiques and critical essays on this picture (and
there have been surprisingly many, for such a piece of glittering
trash), the female characters of Showgirls
have been described as automatons, mannequins, robots and blow-up
dolls. True, not one of these voluptuaries can be described as a
flesh-and-blood woman. But if you have ever spent any time in the milieu
of female illusionists, drag shows or transexual cabaret (in West
Hollywood, San Francisco, Fort Lauderdale or Key West, or perhaps even
in today’s Las Vegas), you will recognize the cynical, cruel and
hard-nosed archetypes of this gritty netherworld of show business.
Though played by attractive and talented women, the brittle characters
of Nomi Malone, Cristal Connors and friends are obviously gay men in
drag. (And them guys are MEAN, take my word for it, honey! You don’t
believe me? Watch RuPaul’s Drag Race!)

But
you really can’t fault the principal performers, who actually do better
than expected in entertaining the viewer and elevating the proceedings
above swamp level. Each actor in this opus gives it their all. From Kyle
McLachlan (who bares his well-rounded buttocks again for the love of
thespus) to Alan Rachins, Robert Davi and Lin Tucci (as the
aforementioned Cheetah emcee Mama Bazoom), the cast is uniformly strong
and makes the movie eminently watchable.

Alan Rachins as Tony Moss: "I'm erect. Why aren't you erect?"

Much
has been written unfairly denigrating Elizabeth Berkley’s performance
as Nomi Malone, the twitchy, bitchy and often psychotic heroine.
Propelled by a naked ambition to become a star (despite her comically
inept and awkward dancing) and fuelled by double cheeseburgers and
milkshakes (when everyone knows that real dancers eat brown rice and
vegetables!), Berkley’s Nomi is as dumb as a rock yet cunning as a fox.
Nomi is mean; Nomi is a jerk. Nomi dumps on everyone as punishment for
being dumped on. It’s an impossible role to play, under-written and
shallow, but somehow Berkley makes it memorable with raw energy, courage
and chutzpah. Frankly, she nails it. It’s far from an Oscar
performance, but she deserves a medal for her valiant attempt.

Gina Gershon as Cristal Connors, Las Vegas super-villainess

Taking
her place in cinema history alongside Margo Channing and Helen Lawson
is Cristal Connors, played with a garish flourish by the versatile Gina
Gershon. Cristal’s an aging star (she’s pushing 30, after all!) and
predatory lesbian, another drag-queen character played by a woman, but
an exceedingly talented one. Gershon’s timing and delivery are right on
the money; her scenes with Berkley crackle with excitement and palpable
suspense. The two leading ladies display real chemistry in their catty
face-offs.

Zack (Kyle MacLachlan) and Nomi make the motion of the ocean

Thematically,
the film panders to the lowest common denominator of the average poor
zhlub’s hopes, dreams and fantasies of success: The good life is all
about sex and money, drugs and champagne, gambling and winning and fame and
fortune. It’s a small and petty world of dog-eat-dog, a place where the
opportunists find, use and abuse each other. It’s a glorification of our
basest instincts, tarted up with lipstick and sequins and bare skin but
ultimately, ugly and pathetic.

Speaking of base instincts, the creative team behind the stylish ’90s noir classic Basic Instinct is to blame for serving up this misogynistic stew of bare breasts and show business clichés. Director Paul Verhoeven (Starship Troopers, Black Book) and screenwriter Joe Eszterhas (Fatal Attraction),
both skilled masters of storytelling, took a wrong turn here that
seemingly reveals arrested adolescent yearnings and an obvious
frustration with and total incomprehension of the opposite sex. They
prove themselves here completely unable to relate the story of a woman,
so instead they rely on cartoonlike stereotypes of what unenlightened
men must think women are, or should be, or might be, like. (And that’s
exactly what female impersonators do.)

What women must do when men aren't around

To
be fair, the male characters fare no better in this dark comedy—so
there’s equal opportunity dehumanization. If the women are all whores
and bitches, the men are all horndogs and scumbags. The entire showbiz
milieu that Verhoeven and Eszterhas present here says a lot less about
Vegas than it does about their own ambivalent feelings toward the film
industry and their own livelihoods. Showgirls
sheds light on Hollywood’s own hardened and cynical attitude toward the
ever-loving “business of show,” treating all its talent like
prostitutes and requiring the most Machiavellian of methods to claw
yourself to the top of the heap.

But, in spite of itself, Showgirls
is far from devoid of entertainment value, hence my love-hate
relationship with this movie. Beneath the Valley of the Barbie Dolls and
Playboy Centerfolds come to life, the hypersexual situations, the
incessant bumping and grinding, is a rollicking good dark comedy about
mean and nasty people doing evil and loathsome things. And furthermore,
what red-blooded American moviegoer doesn’t love a movie chock full of
bare-naked actors, feathers, spangles, pole-dancing, switchblades and a
few well-placed karate kicks to keep the action rolling along? Showgirls is
a splashy, flashy, trashy exposé of the show business urban legend.
(And they don’t call it “show” business for nothing—they really do show
it all, hence the NC-17 rating.)

Does it look like they're levitating to you?

In
other words, it’s so bad, it’s great. Unforgettable dialogue
highlights: “Well, you f*cked the meter reader!”/“Life sucks? Sh*t
happens? Where do you get that stuff, off of t-shirts?”/ “I used to like
Doggy Chow, too.” (Eszterhas commanded an unprecedented $4 million for
this script—don’t you wish you knew how to write a screenplay, too?)

I
guarantee, if you’re still watching this after 20 minutes or so, you’ll
be hooked. And it ain’t over till “Caesar sings” (off key of course).
And if you’re a repetition queen like me, one day you’ll actually be
watching it for the 300th time...

8 comments:

Congratulations, Chris. You did what John Wilson in his "The Official Razzie Movie Guide" was unable to do. Make me actually want to see this claptrap. I have been working my way through the movies in that book for years, but HIS description failed to inspire me, at least for this movie.

Quiggy, thanks so much, what a fabulous compliment!! I do hope you'll see some of what I do in this very flawed but somehow engaging movie. One thing is certain, you will never forget it!!You've also made me want to read The Official Razzie Movie Guide! Can't wait to check that out. Thanks as always for stopping by!- Chris

Another fascinating essay, Chris, although I'm not sure you'll win too many fans among the drag queen contingent, LOL - I've never watched RuPaul's Drag Race and don't want to, but I confess I've yet to meet a really vicious drag queen [so far!] -- but I do get your point about the women in the movie being basically unreal cardboard cut-outs. You'd think by this time directors and screenwriters would have been able to create 3-dimensional female characters, but when all you're after (for 4 million dollars!) is bust lines and cat fights all you're gonna get is "Showgirls".

Very good and amusing analysis -- keep 'em coming! Thanks for the link. I'll add a link here to my review as well. Best, Bill

Hi Bill, thanks for stopping by!My drag queen comments do stem from experience-I lived with a drag performer for several years and witnessed firsthand the cat fights, the tensions, the stolen gowns and lipsticks, the jealousies and recriminations...and why, the smell of that greasepaint!

I always appreciate your point of view and your support! And do, if you have the stomach for it, check out the RuPaul show. It's something else!-Chris

Hi ChrisBoy! I get swamped with work and turn around to find I've missed MULTIPLE postings here! Some fun ahead for me.I love your take on this good/bad movie, especially your (on the nose) observation of it being populated with drag queens rather than anything resembling real women. I know a lot of guys who love this movie, but I really only have one female friend who finds it enjoyable. The rest aren't offended by it so much as they find it what you noted it to be - adolescent.

It's colorful and has a lot of energy (almost too much) almost like a cartoon. And of course with so many bare female breasts around, Kyle's butt is a welcome distraction.

I love the dialog (all bad and tin-eared) and plot, but I've always been dismayed by the dancing. Berkeley always claims to have studied dance all her life, but she's so awkward. And that Vegas number where all they do is thrash about. Another curious thing in a film full of curiosities.But I loved revisiting the film here and getting to read your take on it. By the way, thank you for the generous gesture of a shoutout link. You are aces, my friend. Thanks for another fun glimpse at a little tarnished gem from tinseltown!

Thanks, Ken, for stopping by! It is always a pleasure to get your feedback, especially on movies that we share in common.

Yes, the "dancing" in this film is a disaster...especially the star "turn." Berkley is as herky-jerky as an untreated epileptic--positively frightening. But do you think Verhoeven wanted/intended Nomi's dancing to be less than stellar to make a point about venal lust and ambition devoid of talent? One can only hope that many of the intentions in this movie are off-kilter for a reason, but I may be ascribing too many noble artistic motives when it's just a coincidental side-effect of the train wreck....Either way, it's there for us to gasp and cluck at...and ENJOY and watch over and over!!

Thanks again, Ken, for your thought-provoking cinematic point of view!-Chris

Ugh. Could you possibly be any more insufferably pious with your virtue signalling,feminist,gender-studies essay? It takes a certain kind of sjw queen to be offended by Showgirls and I found your butt-hurt thesis too tedious to finish. Maybe you should lighten up a bit and stop taking everything so seriously.